


no longer one raindrop he is the endless sea

by LazyBaker



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Virgin Billy Hargrove, Whump, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/pseuds/LazyBaker
Summary: Billy already died a virgin once and he’s not keen to do it again.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Other(s), Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 27
Kudos: 247





	no longer one raindrop he is the endless sea

The last guy Billy wants to see is the only guy with a car he can call on at one in the morning on a Tuesday night and actually expect to show up. 

“What the hell, Billy?” Steve’s half out of his beemer when Billy barks at him to ‘ _just drive, Harrington, jesus fuckin’ christ_ ’ and rips the passenger door open.

Steve drives. Lingers at a stop sign two miles out when they reach the mutual, unsaid agreement no one’s coming after them. He gawks at Billy. Doesn’t shy away from openly staring at him like he did when Billy came back with a couple extra holes in his body and a new perspective on life after death which was pretty similar to his old perspective - _everything is shit and everyone can go fuck themselves._

“Is that - is that _broken?_ Is your arm broken right now?” Steve’s back is pressed to the door. For a guy who’s come face to face with a meat-monster, he’s sort of prissy about a little gore.

Billy unwraps his makeshift bandage that’s made out of his own shirt and shoves his mangled wrist in Steve’s face and cackles when he tries to push Billy away, but stops because _bone_ and _blood_ and _Billy_.

Steve Harrington is too nice for his own good. Has a heart open to everyone, including the asshole who murdered half the town. 

Billy rolls down the window and spits some more blood out. The fucker did a nice job on him. Broke his wrist. Ripped his nicest shirt straight down the middle. The red silk one with the buttons that’s too loose now. Billy loves this shirt. Now he’s gotta toss it. 

Billy wishes he’d slammed the guy’s head against the sink a couple more times.

Can’t live with regrets, though, that’s what the doc’s always spouting off about. Live in the moment, don’t fixate on the past. Don’t mix alcohol with your meds. _No, Billy, for the seventh time today, you’re not a ‘genocidal freak’, that was the monster from the other dimension_. The old man talks a lot about shit he’s got no idea about. 

“We’re going to the hospital.” Steve declares. Makes a u-turn and starts driving in the direction of a hospital Billy sure as fuck isn’t stepping one foot into. 

Billy ignores him. A problem for the future. Changes the dial on the radio. Starts shuffling through Steve’s tapes and finds only one disappointment after another.

“You got a smoke?” Billy says. The pain’s annoying. All his meds are back at the apartment. Top shelf shit too. Painkillers he could make some serious dough off of if he didn’t actually need them. One thing the doc has going for him is how loose he is with the prescription pad. 

Steve shakes his head. He’s curled over the wheel, practically has his nose pressed to the windshield. This is what real, honest stress looks like on Steve Harrington. It’s almost worth the future lectures the doc is gonna ham up for him.

Billy sighs. Sits back and listens to music nerds do the lindy hop to and thinks about just walking back to Hawkins. It could be worse. It could always be worse. At least no one’s bitten his dick. That looked like a bitch of an ordeal.

Billy licks at his teeth, feeling around. He’d already pulled a short and curly out while he was waiting for Steve to get his ass outta bed.

“What were you doing there?” Steve asks under his breath. Billy waits him out, thinking Steve will just drop it and they can sit in some almost amiable silence and continue simply existing near each other without any kind of meaningful connection that’ll ultimately and definitively prove Billy’s a bigger moron than Hawkins High’s golden boy--but then Steve has to go and shoot them both in the foot.

“So?” Glances at Billy, hair all over the place, in sweat pants and an undershir with a bomber jacket thrown on top. Billy appreciates the peak of chest hair. Steve’s brows are raised, eyes pitch black under the red from the traffic light, _waiting_. “I drove forty minutes and your bleeding on my upholstery, Billy. Tell me.”

Billy snorts. “Why do you think, Harrington? Why does anyone go to a bar?”

Steve sighs. Ducks his head. The light turns green and Steve doesn’t push the gas. There’s no one else on the road at this time in Who Cares, Indiana. Steve’s got plenty of room to be as irritatingly compassionate as possible.

The silence does make Billy antsy. Jittery and uncomfortable. His knee jumps. 

Steve doesn’t believe him. 

Billy licks his finger and gives him a wet willy, sticks his pinky as far as he can into Steve’s ear.

Steve bats his hand away, wipes at his ear and grumbles _‘oh my god_ ’, glares at Billy, heated and resentful at waking him up from his beauty sleep and then all that fire disappears and it’s back. _That look_. That look that made Billy hesitate for five fucking minutes before calling him on the payphone. 

Pity. 

Steve feels bad for him. Has since Billy showed up back in Hawkins with all his dirty laundry aired and hung up for public consumption.

“Thanks for the ride. I can walk from here.” Billy’s got the door open and his foot out when Steve grabs his arm. Pulls him back in. Reaches over Billy and yanks the door shut. Pushes down the lock. 

“Don’t be stupid.” Steve tells him. Starts driving again. Waits until Billy’s not clawing for the door to say, “Why were you at _that_ bar? Don’t you know what it is? Is that what happened?”

Billy stares ahead, at the white dashes disappearing under the beemer, the yellow-lit street lamps up ahead. 

_That_ bar. 

His secret’s at the door. The only one he’s got left and Steve’s knocking.

Billy’d found the bar two months after Neil uprooted them from California and only now had the guts and the end of the world kind of desperate motivation to finally do more than park and stare and sit on his ass waiting to be brave.

“Yeah.” Billy says, curling his one good fist on his lap, breathless with his anger that’s lodged itself in his throat, choking the life out of him by the day, has been since the day he was born. “Yeah, Harrington, I took three buses and walked all the way to a bar an hour outside of Hawkins, on a _weekday_ , four hours before my shift starts to get a _drink_ and got into it because some fag had the nerve to hit on me. That’s what happened. God’s mouth to your ears, the honest fuckin’ truth.”

That shuts Steve up.

The guy had a nice enough face. A nice enough dick. Kissed all right. Tasted like a gin and coke. Didn’t ask for Billy’s name. Called Billy _baby_ in this real deep voice that rammed through Billy’s anxieties and the scars covering his body and his sore joints and fucked shoulders and got him hard _._

The guy didn’t know Billy. All he saw was a nice face and an eagerness to do more than just chat.

The guy was good enough.

Billy hadn’t expected romance or to even get off. He’d just had _enough_ of the life in his little empty apartment and the weekly doctor visits and the humdrum garage and the nights and days spent daydreaming about a pretty boy who will never like him back because what could there possibly be to like now - there’s nothing left.

Billy already died a virgin once and he’s not keen to do it again.

The beemer’s tires squeal with how fast Steve pulls over. Billy has to catch himself on the dashboard when Steve slams his foot on the brake. 

Steve’s not glaring at Billy this time. He’s got his eyes narrowed to the road out front, to somewhere in the dark Billy can’t see. He’s whiteknuckling the wheel so hard his hands shake.

“Is that guy still there?”

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m gonna kill him.”

“Put your dick away, Harrington. No one’s asking you to play hero and avenge my _honor_.”

“You don’t - “ Steve shakes his head, looks to Billy with these big, pleading eyes. “You deserve better than-- _that_.”

 _That_. 

“I wanted to get fucked. I wanted to pop my fucking cherry and suck cock and _fuck_ and just--” Billy wipes at his eyes. Twists his tongue and bites it hard between his front teeth. The guy hadn’t let up, held Billy by the back of his head, suffocated him with his dick all the way down Billy’s throat, Billy’s nose smashed against his pelvis and Billy had blacked out, flashed back to the warehouse, the cold tile of the restroom turned into the cold concrete of the warehouse and the hands on the back of his head became meaty tendrils holding him still while he shoved himself into Billy’s mouth, down Billy’s throat, down into Billy’s body and took and took and took and _took_ _everything_. 

Billy pushes his thumb into his broken wrist, the sharp pain keeps him steady, in the present. 

There’s no living in the past. There’s only the present. The right now. Steve in the driver’s seat. Billy next to him. The lousy music. The heater on high. The beemer all around him. The long road leading to where home is going to have to be.

Billy glances to see Steve’s shocked face and hates him. 

“Screw you.” He musters up. “We’re not friends. We’re jackshit.”

“ _Screw you._ ” Steve shoots back, braces his arm on the back of Billy’s seat to get in his face. “Guess who visited you in the hospital every damn week, asshole? _We’re not friends_ \- how about _fuck you, Billy_. We are friends. I wouldn’t be here if we weren’t. You could’ve. I dont. Fuck.” Steve rubs at his face. Breathes in deep and Billy waits, wary, sitting on needles, unsure what he’s supposed to do with _this_. 

Steve exhales harshly through his nose. Looks at Billy for a long moment. He touches Billy’s shoulder, firm. “We’re going to the hospital and then I’m taking you home. You’re not going back to that bar.”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do.”

“I am. You’re not going back there. Not alone.”

Billy laughs off his rocker. He’s losing his mind all over again. “Steve Harrington wants to go to a queer bar with me? What will the children think?”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“I’m not a girl. I’m not gonna fuckin’ break because some guy wasn’t nice.”

“You’re a _person_. Your first time is special. You deserve better than a fucking broken wrist and--and.” Steve grabs the shift stick and slams it into park. 

Steve doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Just like the doc. And Max. And El.

None of them _know_.

Billy’s shaking his head, gnawing on his bottom lip to get it to stay _still_.

Says, “No, I don’t.”

Billy deserves a whole lot of shit. Karma’s gonna bite his ass clean off. He’d just been hoping for some small something before the last shoe in a million pairs of shoes dropped.

“Yeah, you do.” Steve says, softly. He puts his hand on Billy’s knee. Warm and alive. “No one deserves this. Specially not you.”

Steve puts the car into drive and brings his hand back to settle on Billy’s knee. Keeping his leg from jumping. Keeping Billy in the right now where he’s got years left ahead of him. 

Billy squeezes his broken wrist this time. Fists it and grinds his molars to dust. Steve’s got his eyes set on Billy and nowhere else, glancing at him like there’s someone there underneath the ugly. 

Hope hurts and it fills Billy. He aches with it.

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'looking for love' by birdtalker  
>   
> [the original tumblr post](https://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/615975492660674560/p-sorry-for-being-a-huge-lurker-i-dont-actually)  
>   
> [tumblr](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com)


End file.
